Snorkel Fishing in the Mediterranean

A species-hunter's wet dream, a snorkel fished Caneva's Blenny (Microlipophrys canevae).

After parts of the South-West experiencing rain every day of 2026 into March, following the prolonged 2025 drought (more frequent climate whiplash events), I was craving a bit of sunshine and some fanciful fishing. The forecast in Cornwall was predictably looking pretty grim, so at our weekly Tuesday meetup, over a few pints of Rattler, and not much convincing, Cal and I noted down a list of some cheap flights, and spent some time investigating local surveys and reports. We found lots of marks holding interesting species this time of year, for most of the countries we were looking at, but we worked out that we could both potentially get the most new adds to our species tally within 70km of Girona airport. The catch was that a lot of these targets were more enigmatic species, either rare, or rarely caught on rod and line (Giant Snake Eel, Red-Black Triplefin, Bandtooth Conger, et al.), so our hit rate would be low, but the rewards would be worth the effort! We thought we'd make it a weekend thing; fly out Saturday, come back Monday, and just blitz it round in a hire car. We found plane tickets for the cost of a Wetherspoons' fish and chips (with an alcoholic drink), and never being ones to shy away from a chippy, we booked the flights!  

 

Between the two of us, we worked out that the cost of the return flights and the hire car for the weekend, was around the same as an 8-hour charter boat in Cornwall!

 

Mark 1 & 2 

We land in Girona at 10pm (local), and get to the first spot around midnight. This was our Giant Snake Eel mark, so the plan was to catch some bream for bait on Isome, Gulp, or Uneune, then cast out the heavier rigs for Giant Snake Eels, as they come out of their burrows at night to feed. Frustratingly, no bream appeared, so conscious of time, we moved. A little, unexpected wall held several fish in the surrounding shallows. My first fish was a Rock Goby (#1), and it turned out there was quite a few of them there, so I changed tactics, putting on a tanago hook to sight fish this shoal of tiny scad or bream, no larger than 4cm. It looked like a juvenile Axillary Bream, although the maxilla was compressed, so maybe Blackspot Red Bream; though they aren't reported in this area. On closer inspection, a faint yellow line across the body is visible—it was a Salema Porgy (#2). As there was nothing much else happening, believing the predators may have spooked the smaller fishes, we call it quits at 3am, and get a few hours sleep in the hire car. Before we knew it, we were back out fishing at 7am, adding species like Incognito Goby (#3), Rusty Blenny (#4), Mediterranean Damselfish (#5), and Rainbow Wrasse (#6), and a larger fish which managed to snap my line. Cal spotted what may have been a large, Black Scorpionfish under a rock in a few inches of water, which chased away a cuttlefish, but it just wasn't interested.

Left to right: Rock Goby (Gobius paganellus), juvenile Salema Porgy (Sarpa salpa), Incognito Goby (Gobius incognitus), Rusty Blenny (Parablennius sanguinolentus), Mediterranean Damselfish (Chromis chromis), and Rainbow Wrasse (Coris julis).

 

Mark 3 (Snorkel Fishing) 

Feeling like we've exhausted our second mark, our journey takes us an hour and a half away, to somewhere we really wanted to go snorkel fishing (skishing). Now facing the midday heat, Cal takes the bouldery side of the mark, and I take the more reefy side. The seafloor was littered with sea urchins, so I was careful where to put my hands and feet, especially as my beard prevents a good seal on my snorkel mask, leading it to collect water and fog up every 30 seconds, reducing my visibility. Quite quickly I am greeted by at least three triplefins hugging tightly to the rock. The water looked still from above, but the swell was deceptively strong, making it hard to present anything in front of the fish. I had to use a heavier cheb on my tanago rod to cut through it, but I think a combination of the cheb weight size, and the swell giving me less control, ultimately booping the triplefins with the cheb itself, was a bit too spooky. I foolishly persisted with those same three triplefins anyway, whilst intermittently resting the spot to target other species. I did however, manage to hook a female triplefin, but it spat the hook before I could bring it to my hand. 

 

 

I caught a smaller Incognito Goby in deeper water, and brought it out for photos in case it was the similar Bucchich's Goby (I don't think it was), and also a Tompot Blenny (#7) down the steep of the reef. Cal, on the other hand finds himself a honey hole, where he catches his target species, and several bonus ones too (I'll link his catch report here when he posts it). Meanwhile, a smaller blenny which was curiously inspecting me, showed an interest in my offering, so I caught it, got a few quick photos, and frivolously didn't give much attention to what it might be, as I'm locked in with these triplefins. I assumed it was a species of Parablennius that I had already caught before, but I was told it's most likely a Zvonimir's Blenny (#8) on account of the "large, white spots at the base of the dorsal fin", so it's a tentative Zvonimir's for now.

A tentatively assigned Zvonimir's Blenny (Parablennius zvonimiri).

Tompot Blenny (Parablennius gattorugine) underwater are striking!

 

I found a 2g tungsten cheb weight in my tackle box which I switched over to, thinking the smaller profile with the similar weight will be less intrusive to the triplefins. Feeling like I'd be beating a dead horse if I return to the area I was fishing, I take up Cal's offer to try his spot, as there was another triplefin showing there, that he hadn't presented to. In a matter of seconds, the fish takes it, and it's landed—a male Red-Black Triplefin (#9); which confirms to me that at the last spot, my cheb was too big, and those triplefins had wised up to it. On this boulder in particular, there were several holes, no more than a few millimetres wide, Cal, now having worked this spot pretty hard, tipped me off that there were some fish in there with bright yellow and red cheeks. I adjusted my tanago over the hole's entrance, and right away it took the hook, and I was able to winkle out a pristine Caneva's Blenny (#10). I can't think of many people who have caught those on rod and line, so that was a very unexpected bonus catch for both of us!

Red-Black Triplefin (Tripterygion tripteronotum), a species of blenny which was our main target of the trip.

  

Mark 4 & 5 

We decide to call it, to grab some lunch, and allow us time for our trunks and wetsuit to dry out, so our bag isn't too heavy for check-in. We'd been fuelled almost entirely by muffins at this point, so a hot, crusty roll was greatly appreciated. The next location was a beach we wanted to scout out before dark for Bandtooth Conger; it didn't look very promising, but we gave it an LRF to get a feel for what bait fish are nearby, but all we caught was an Incognito Goby, and a miniature Greater Weever (#11) each. Perhaps it will be better at dark? We followed the rugged coastline along to the adjacent beach, which proved just as tricky, but on the far side of this beach was a craggy shelf with some deeper water, where we could see lots of activity.  

 

The first fish I hook into was a Common Comber, which I frustratingly drop (a bucket list species for me, at least in the UK). The next fish I land, and it's an Ocellated Wrasse (#12), all the wrasse here (except for the Rainbows) have been oddly very tricky. A stunning Painted Comber (#13) follows it, along with plenty of Rainbow Wrasse in between, then as dusk approaches, they slow down, and in deeper water, I get a couple of vibrant Common Comber (#14), and an Annular Bream (#15). It's now pitch black, so off we trek back to the first beach, using some of the fish we caught as bait for the Bandtooth Congers, seeing a trail of Barbary Harvester Ants along the way, and a Moorish Gecko. We're using pretty light travel rods, so our casting was not very far at all, but had read that these congers come higher up the beach looking for prey at night. Finding an old tire to use as a rod pod, then setting the reel's drag loose, we were fishing! Cal's rod was able to cast a little further than mine, which seemed to make more of a difference, as he was getting bites, and lost one take, before eventually landing a conger. A quick inspection, and we could tell it wasn't a Bandtooth, it was a small, regular European Conger. Now, feeling sleep-deprived, and foreseeing an onslaught of strap congers, we pack up and make our way back to Hotel Hire Car. 

Left to right: juvenile Greater Weever (Trachinus draco), Ocellated Wrasse (Symphodus ocellatus), Painted Comber (Serranus scriba), Common Comber (Serranus cabrilla), Annular Bream (Diplodus annularis), subadult Salema Porgy (Sarpa salpa).

Mark 3 (again) & Mark 6

A much-needed slow start to the day, having a wander around the nearest town, where we picked up some food, drink, a fish identification book, and a Spanish pack of Ascended Heroes Pokémon cards (turned out they were fakes). We felt like our snorkel fishing spot had more to give, so we headed back, despite the soreness, tiredness, and blistering heat. With the flight only a few hours away, we debated whether we should snorkel again, and if it will leave enough time for things to dry off. It was a good decision not to, as people were throwing rocks off the top of the cliff we were standing under, right into the water where we would've been swimming. We edged away from the cliff to a safer spot, and cast out using a variety of methods, with only more Rainbow Wrasse, Annular Bream, and Rock Gobies to show for it. Starting to suffer in the heat, and with only 40 minutes to go, before we need to leave for the airport, we check out a nearby strip of water sandwiched between a jetty and a breakwater, and it's filled with fish (Two-Banded Bream, Annular Bream, Salema Porgy, Thick-Lipped Mullet, European Bass, Painted Comber, Wrasse sp., and probably loads more). It wasn't like hooking-ducks like we thought it was going to be, but I did manage to land a bigger Salema Porgy, one which was clearly more identifiable than the first. With that, we hang it in and head to the airport, only for our flight to be delayed by five hours—worth it. 

With 15 species caught over the weekend, 11 of them lifers, that brings my global species tally to 124.

 

Goodbye, Spain, you've been good to us.